ständiger Konkurrenzkampf

I now have proof that Tanja is a girl (aside from the obvious).

Now, this takes a bit of explaining. At the backdoor of the house, there is a hallway that leads to the door. We’ll often leave that back door open for the cat to wander out into the backyard. That hallway is also where we stack the recycling before we take it out. Since we had pizza the night before last, there was a pizza bow on the floor. Tanja and I were watching Spicks and Specks and she wandered up to the backdoor to look for the cat, and then quietly had a peek inside the pizza box.

Then let out a blood-curdling yelp:

“Oh my God, Lucas, there’s a RAAAAAAT!!!!!”

I’m not sure caps can communicate the shrill horror of that shriek.

I came tearing up the hallway. She was pale and freaking out and pointing at the box.

“What?” says I. “A rat? Where?”

“It’s a rat or a possum! It’s in the pizza box! It’s moving!”

“Well, how big is it?”

*Tanja holds her hands about a foot and a bit apart* “I’m sure it’s a possum!”

Right. First I shoo away Magrat, who is hovering like someone who’s just found silver ingots while digging a new privy. I carefully hold down the edges of the pizza box, holding it shut, and lift it up, expecting at any moment for a possum (which near us are the size of small cats) to start freaking out in the box, and carry it into the backyard. Tanja unlocks the gate and I set the pizza box down on the pavement of the alley like I’m carrying a bomb. Then flip open the lid of the box.

To see a little rat. Maybe four inches long. Brown fur and pink tail. Cute as a button, washing its ears.

It scampers off under cover of darkness.

I turn back to Tanja. She looks, to her credit, a trifle embarrassed.

“Foot and a half, huh?”

“Shut up. I squealed like a girl.”

“Yes, you did.”

So I bugged her about it a few times. Then, karmically, this morning I poured my cereal into the bowl, went to the fridge, got the jug of orange juice, started to pour then went “Oh shit!” and stopped. So I had slightly orangey meusli. So nobody’s perfect. (Even Steven strikes again!)